


Alive

by lusteralliance (orphan_account)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, I Love You, Kissing, M/M, anyway enjoy, felix worried, hey im uhhhh back at it again with sylvelix garbage, i mean i do love you, i need to leave b, i never know how to rate things so just...they kissy kissy a bit in the beginning, i shouldve been studying i have something huge tomorrow jeez, still dumb as rocks, sylvain sad, they say that. sorry it wasnt a message to yall, together they are:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 09:15:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20618609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lusteralliance
Summary: Faced with the possibility of a last fight in the coming morning, Felix knows only two things: he doesn't want to die, and neither does Sylvain.





	Alive

**Author's Note:**

> idk thats prolly a bad summary anyway like and subsc

“Tonight may be our last night.”

Dimitri’s words were soft, and they hushed everyone in the monastery’s gathering hall. His blue eye was focused on the ground, and his arms were limp at his sides.

“We’ll win, though,” Ingrid put in with the determined display of a raised fist. But there was worry in her usually hardened gaze, and her fingers were curled too tightly against her palm to be fearless. She soared in the air with nothing but courage; but even to Ingrid, the battle tomorrow was one cloaked in unease. “Won’t we, Your Highness?”

Dimitri looked up at his old friend’s words, and he nodded, but said nothing. Felix felt a hollow in his chest. Dimitri was often optimistic, no matter how dark the days were. Their penultimate attack on the empire had been perilous enough; Felix himself had suffered a blow to his side, and he hadn’t fully recovered. If he slipped, or if he lost his breath, or if he wasn’t a heartbeat quick enough...the swordsman squeezed his eyes shut.

He didn’t want to die.

“Get some rest, everyone. We march at daybreak. Eat and drink, and spend time with one another. Our victory tomorrow...is assured.” Dimitri’s words were forced, but he was trying. Dedue placed a hand on his shoulder, and Annette shrank against Ashe’s chest. The archer murmured reassurance to the mage, his olive eyes just as frightened, just as fragile. Ingrid turned and took Mercedes’ hand, and Mercedes smiled bravely at her, but there were tears streaming down her face.

“...You heard His Highness, everyone,” Sylvain piped up from behind Felix, and his voice broke a little, the artificial cheer he forced into it faltering just a little. “Let’s have a good time and win tomorrow. It’ll be easy.”

Sylvain was writing at his desk when Felix entered his chambers. Sylvain looked up briefly in the candlelight, and his hazel eyes were swimming with tears. He smiled, then turned back to his parchment.

“What are you writing?”

“A letter. To my father...just in case,” Sylvain answered, his voice even and almost pleasant. His quill was shaking in his hand, his armor shed and replaced by a loose nightshirt and pants. Felix was dressed similarly—he had originally sought to train, but he knew he would be sore and in even worse shape when he woke.

“You won’t die, Sylvain,” Felix told him. “We’ll make it out alive together...I promise.”

Sylvain gripped his quill harder, and Felix saw a tear fall onto his paper, and the dot of an “i” bloomed into a swirl of black ink in the droplet.

“Thanks, Felix.”

Sylvain’s shoulders were shaking, just a little. Felix couldn’t stand it. He hated seeing his old friend like this; a broken, frightened man, alone in a prison of his design.

Felix lay his hand on the desk, the candle’s flame flickering softly, then lowered his head and placed a soft kiss on Sylvain’s cheek.

Sylvain gave a shuddering gasp, and he looked up, the tear that had fallen having left a trail of wetness that glistened from his lashes to his chin. “Felix?”

Felix quieted him by pressing another kiss against Sylvain’s lips. At first, Sylvain made a confused, muffled sound, but then he relaxed, kissing him back. Felix found Sylvain’s hand and clutched it reassuringly, then tugged the quill out of it and placed it on the table. Sylvain stretched out his fingers just as Felix laced his together with them, slipping onto Sylvain’s lap and letting the lancer pull him into a deeper kiss.

Felix was the one who pulled away, and Sylvain chased after him just a little before lowering his head. Felix hugged him tightly, then rested his forehead against Sylvain’s.

“Please don’t cry,” he whispered, wiping the trail of the lancer’s only tear. Sylvain sniffled and smiled, and it was honest, true. He stroked the back of Felix’s neck, nodding into his forehead. 

“I won’t. Not anymore, if you don’t want me to.” Felix relinquished the reins, and Sylvain took them without a word, kissing Felix’s jaw, then just under his chin.

Felix squeezed Sylvain’s hand and clung to the back of the chair with his other as the lancer placed soft, quick kisses under Felix’s throat. The swordsman squirmed and gave timid sighs of pleasure at the fluttering warmth they passed into his skin, chilled by the night. Sylvain slipped his hands down under the waistband of Felix’s pants, then raised them up to under Felix’s arms with the hems of his shirt pinched between two fingers each.

Felix let Sylvain help him discard his clothing, and Felix opened his eyes, flushing a little, and Sylvain gazed at his face affectionately, blushing too, before looking down. The lancer’s eyes widened, and he gently kneaded the bloody bandages wrapped tightly around Felix’s side. Felix gasped and hunched over against Sylvain’s chest, and Sylvain kissed his temple and wrapped his arms around him.

“Felix, you’re wounded….”

“It’s okay,” Felix snapped, though the usual edge to his voice was dulled. “It...it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“You flinched when I touched you,” Sylvain mumbled into Felix’s hair. “You need to rest. I...I don’t want to hurt you.”

“What, are you going to bite me there?” Felix teased, but Sylvain’s hazel eyes were filled with concern as he shook his head.

“I’m being serious, Felix. Please, just go to bed. Here, I’ll take you.” Sylvain leaned to the side and picked up Felix’s nightshirt from the ground, gathering it up in his hands so the neckline lined up with the hem. Felix wanted to argue, but before he could, Sylvain had placed his shirt over his head, and was already stuffing Felix’s right arm into his sleeve.

Sylvain seemed to sense Felix’s bitterness at his wound, at his failure to make Sylvain happy as the swordsman sat limply on his lap, his head lowered, his gaze averted. The lancer lightly stroked his cheek with the side of his thumb, then kissed his forehead.

“I’m fine. Okay? A hug would’ve been fine, you didn’t have to go there,” Sylvain chuckled, and he lifted them both to their feet. Felix glared up at him, then hugged him, and Sylvain wrapped his arms tightly around the swordsman’s chest. Felix wound his own arms around Sylvain’s neck, then placed a last kiss upon his collarbone.

“Let’s go. It’s late.” Sylvain took Felix’s hand and headed to the door, but Felix suddenly pulled back. Sylvain stumbled backwards, and he turned his head in the soft candlelight with a questioning look in his once teary eyes.

“Let me sleep here,” Felix requested, quietly. “...It’s too cold in my bed.” Sylvain smiled again, and he nodded, taking Felix’s other hand, too.

“Okay.”

Felix stared into Sylvain’s half-closed eyes, and Sylvain stared back.

“When will you send your letter?” the swordsman asked softly. Sylvain closed his eyes, and he pulled Felix gently against him. Felix sighed and nestled against his love’s chest.

“I won’t. I’ll be fine,” Sylvain replied into his hair. He tucked the warm blankets over them both so Felix nearly disappeared under them, then gently rubbed his back.

Felix’s eyes started to close from the soft rhythm of Sylvain’s hand making gentle circles between his shoulder blades, when they suddenly snapped open and he scrambled into a seated position. Sylvain flinched in surprise.

“This isn’t right! I’m supposed to be comforting you!” Felix fell onto Sylvain’s chest, and Sylvain responded with an “oof!” and then laughed when Felix squeezed him in the tightest hug he could manage, his muscles just as drowsy as he had been two seconds ago.

“It’s going to be okay,” Felix told Sylvain, and Sylvain grabbed Felix and rolled over, eliciting an uncharacteristic yelp from the swordsman.

“You sound like you’re threatening me! I know, Felix. Thank you,” he grinned, gently kissing Felix’s forehead. Felix struggled in his strong grasp, then gave up and huddled up against Sylvain’s chest again. His heart was beating slowly against Felix’s cheek, his thumb moving lightly over the back of the swordsman’s hand. His side rose and fell as he breathed, and he hummed into Felix’s temple as their heads rested on his pillow, easing him into sleep.

“I love you, Sylvain….”

“I love you too, Felix. I’ll always love you, until we die.”

Felix smiled a little as Sylvain resumed his soft, muffled melody. They were alive. 

And for tonight, that was all that mattered.


End file.
